Once Upon a Time on Mars, Chapter 3
by Tom Ladd
Summary: A young woman in the former Soviet Union struggles to keep her family together after their grandfather disappears - in the new Soviet Space Shuttle.


New York City

December, 1989.

TWO YEARS EARLIER..

Lena arrived in New York City from Moscow in August, 1989. She had obtained entrance to Columbia University and was very enthusiastic about declaring her journalism major. She was having a very successful first semester for her Freshman year, and was still exploring the city with her friends on the weekends in December, a month after the destruction of the Berlin Wall. She had ignored that event as irrelevant until she saw what big news it was still making four weeks later. But she still dismissed its import as negligible, even after the two Germanys reunited. She had had a couple of heartfelt discussions with her roommates, Lisa and Amy, about her strong opposition to war.

"So much wealth and technology has been created in the last 200 years, but everywhere there is conflict and suffering," Lena said. "The world should live in peace. I never want my country to go to war with yours."

Lisa and Amy hugged her. "Oh, that's not going to happen. All those politicians are just mouthing off to get attention and stay in power."

In the first week of December, Lena and her friends were gearing up for their first finals. They'd begun studying over the last week, and knew there'd only be more work over the next couple of weeks as they finished papers and prepared for exams. They had worked hard all semester, and felt the weekend was just the right time to relax, visit some clubs and blow off some steam.

They decided to go to Manhattan and see some of the more famous ones, like Studio 54 (on West 54th, of course), then CBGBs in Greenwich Village. They were having a pretty good time, and one Night Club, the Ritz, had a spare table, so they sat down and ordered , their second Long Island Ice teas of the night.

The Ritz had a history stretching back to 1886, when it was opened as the Webster. Famous names from Emma Goldman (giving speeches on free love) and Margaret Sanger (leading strikers to the building) to Elvis Presley, B.B. King and Ray Charles had put in appearance of one kind or another for over a hundred years. The Webster became the Ritz in 1980, but rumors floated about that the Ritz wanted to relocate, and that the club would re-open as the Webster.

People were everywhere, in satin suits, and casual dress. The music was not too loud, and the talk was animated..

"This is so much fun! said Amy. "I could go for another tea after this one, and stay out all night!"

"It's true," said Lisa. "I haven't enjoyed myself so much in such a long time."

"I agree, the Long Island Ice teas are very good. And I love the music and seeing all the people!" enthused Lena. She enjoyed watching New Yorkers very much because once they got off the crowded, hectic streets of downtown, they took on a different persona of forthright energy, and seemed so full of life.

Three men came up to them and the one in the center, with black hair, a medium build and who was wearing a grey satin shirt, black sport suit, and a large grin, introduced them. "Are you ladies here all by yourselves? It's a great night here tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes to both," said Lisa. "We don't have dates, and we'd love another drink."

"I'm Jim, and my two buddies here are Jerry and Rob. Can we sit down?"

The young women made room in the booth and the men joined them. They spoke for a while about college, and life in the city ("Our Mayor Koch is a clown!" insisted Jim), and the men told them about work in their advertising firm ("Dull," said Jim). Lena noticed they did not talk politics, or about the Wall, nor did they mention the name of their firm.

After an hour Lisa and Amy were very bubbly and laughing at everything Jim, Jerry or Rob said. Lena hadn't taken a third tea, but she was feeling quite relaxed and happy, as though she were with friends she had known for years. She was flattered when Jim spoke to her, and as she thought he was very friendly and good-looking.

"You don't talk much," said Jim. "That means you're modest and I think that's very attractive, especially since you're a very intelligent woman."

At this Lena blushed.

"I notice you talk with an accent," he continued. "Where is that from?"

"It's from the Soviet Union. I am Soviet," said Lena.

"Really? How interesting." Jim looked at Jerry and Rob. "Hey guys, check it out. Lena's from the Soviet Union."

"Whoa, cool," said Jerry.

"Yeah, that's awesome," said Rob. "It's real cold there, right?"

"Yes," Lena answered, "but mostly during the winters. During the summer it actually grows quite warm."

"Considering how much bad press the Soviet Union gets here," said Jim, "It's amazing how little people know about the achievements of your country. I don't really know that much about it either."

"Well, it's a huge country," Lena said, "And it isn't really just one country, but it's made up of over a dozen republics, each with their own autonomy and governments."

"They're all socialist republics, right? And the country is actually made up of the union between them?" asked Jim.

"That's right," said Lena.

Rob and Jerry and Rob grinned. "It's a Union of Socialist Republics!" they exclaimed.

Lena laughed. "That's right," she said.

Jim laughed too. "Incredible. I'd love to hear more about your country sometime. Maybe we can have lunch or something and talk more then."

Lena felt bouyant and warmed and cheered by his interest. Maybe he wasn't a warlike chauvinist, she considered. Maybe he wants peace like I do.

"Sure, we can go out. I'd like that," she said.

Jim smiled warmly. "Great," he said. "You know, we're going to our room for some music and to watch a couple of comedies on our VCR. Would you care to join us? Just for a little bit, then we'll drive you home.

The young women looked at each other. "It _is _only Saturday," ventured Lisa quietly. "Maybe we could stay out a little later and not lose too much study time. We do have a whole week, after all."

"That's right, we have a whole week," said Amy. "And I'm having a good time. Why stop now?"

Lena looked at her friends affectionately. She felt an urge to dissuade them, but she knew they had a good point. They had plenty of time to study. And she was having a pretty good time. Besides, she had never seen a movie on a VCR.

***

December, 1989

New York City

Consulate of the USSR

Sergei Lavrov stood in the Soviet Vice-Consul's office front of the desk in his office, and Vice-Consul Yuri Shirapov sat patiently behind his desk, smiling at him. A manila folder across the table.

Shirapov was smiling. "So, Comrade Lavrov, how do you like New York City?"

Lavrov considered for a moment. "It has a number of very interesting sites, and very many good restaurants. It's smaller than Moscow, but it still has a number of features to recommend it."

Shirapov nodded. "The workday in Manhattan is much too frenetic for a rational man. The foot traffic on 5th Avenue during rush hour is frenzied, a horde of semi-panicked animals. I avoid it at all costs. You, however, may have reason to move among that horde, and all I can say is, bear it as you must."

"I understand, Comrade Shirapov."

Shirapov passed the folder across the desk. "Please sit down, Comrade," he said.

Lavrov did so.

"Please pick up the folder, open it and read over its contents."

The folder contained a dossier of a Soviet citizen in New York. Lavrov spent 5 minutes reading the dossier, then looked up at Shirapov. "Is the information here correct?" he asked.

The Vice-Consul nodded. "It is. We have confirmed it through very reliable sources. As you can imagine, the situation concerns us very much."

"This man Gurevich is an esteemed member of the Soviet Air Force. It says he has been attached to the embassy for 6 months, but it doesn't say in what capacity. I wonder, can you tell me what he is doing here?"

"Gurevich was assigned here as assistant military attaché, in order to assist with translations and provide other services in his various areas of expertise. He is an accomplished pilot and his English is quite good, you know."

"But these other activities – aren't they grounds to send him home, and even jail him?"

Shirapov laughed. "Comrade Lavrov, your zeal is refreshing, but your question demonstrates your naivete. Those reports indicate he is regularly visiting prostitutes and the homes of US businessmen. Those in themselves are not necessarily in violation of Consulate policy; to most Americans they would not seem unusual at all."

Lavrov looked skeptical. "The reports say other things," he observed.

Shirapov nodded again. "They do indeed. We suspect he has established contact with various Russian émigrés, who are watching the events in Germany with considerable interest. Gurevich may be going into business with them."

"Some of them are criminals."

"They are to us, but they do not seem so to the Americans. What is of most concern to us is the possibility his business activities will be in opposition to Soviet interests."

Lavrov snorted. "The dossier says they are deal in counterfeit goods."

"That's right," said Shirapov. "And some of those counterfeiters smuggle goods back into the Soviet Union. We think Gurevich is helping them arrange some high-level Soviet contacts who will facilitate their business dealings. As you might imagine, his status in the Soviet military gives him access to the highest officials."

"So you're still just observing him?"

"That is correct. And that is what you will do when you make his acquaintance."

Lavrov remained impassive, but he suspected that what followed would be quite unpleasant.

"You will be introduced to him at Delmonico's tonight after the symphony. You will cultivate his friendship over your common interest in wines, good music, and other leisure will pass any information you obtain back to us."

"I understand, Comrade Vice-Consul," said Lavrov. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Some of his associates have personal habits that we find monstrous. You don't have to participate, but you may not show any disapproval of them before Gurevich or any of his associates."

Lavrov looked at the Vice-Consul. "Can you give me some clue as to what "habits" we might be talking about?"

"No," said Shirapov. "But you may find some of them quite unpleasant to hear about. Hopefully, that's the closest you will get to them.

"Do you have any more questions, Comrade Lavrov?" Shirapov seemed to believe he'd said enough.

"No, Comrade Vice-Consul."

"Then this meeting is concluded. I wish you the best of luck in your mission."

Lavrov stood, saluted, and left the Vice-Consul's office.

***

Lena, Lisa and Amy piled into the limousine with Jim and his friends. They were laughing again, and were quite awed by the limousine's interior, which was made of leather upholstery and sported a full bar. Lisa and Amy sat with Rob and Jerry, and Lena sat next to Jim.

"You girls sure are fun. I'm having a great time," said Jim. "Tell me, where do we take you back to?"

"To Columbia University. We have a dorm there," said Lisa.

"To Columbia it is," said Jim. He put his arm around Lena, and she sat closer to him. She accepted a drink from Jim with pleasure, and enjoyed the smooth passage of the limo through the night. She felt warm and comfortable next to her new friend. The city sped by them in dark streets and brightly lit buildings.

_To be continued._


End file.
